


and we were all players

by EverShadow



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bartender Beau, F/F, Mentions of Keg/Beau, Rockstar AU, Rockstar Yasha
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:14:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27675872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverShadow/pseuds/EverShadow
Summary: Rockstar AU. Modern fantasy setting. Yasha's part of a famous band, Yasha and the Orphan Makers along with Veth Brenatto, Caduceus Clay, and Jester Lavorre. One night, playing in the city of Zadash, she meets Beau, a bartender working their venue. When the weather disrupts their tour plans, she finds herself getting to know the local a little better. Fame, fortune, and feelings soon collide in a mess of glamor and spotlight.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Comments: 4
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

Smoke drifted hazily in the cold winter night, punctuated by a sharp sigh of mixed tobacco and breath, silvery against the dark backdrop of a somewhat clean alley. Dirty brick lined the walls that drove ever upward into the night sky, creating a shadowy, dreary environment even if the sun had been high in the sky. Only a lamp, affixed next to a propped open door, mimicked any sort of light that alley might've seen.

"Those things'll kill you." The smoker turned to face her patron saint of health with an eye roll and another long, red-embered drag of her cigarette.

"I ain't dead yet," she grumbled. "Keep talking shit like that and you might be." Flecks of ash peppered her similarly colored coat as the door opened. A woman of average height joined her in the alley, the light bouncing off her dark skin to give it a light amber glow. Her blue eyes watched the short smoker exhale a thin line right at her, which caused her to wrinkle her nose.

"Ugh, do you have to do that?"

"I hear it keeps away the gnats," the shorter brunette responded in similar disdain as she dropped the finished cigarette on the ground, grinding it into the thin layer of snow collecting on the damp asphalt.

"Head honcho wants me to let you know your break's over."

"Fucking hell it is, it's been like two minutes!" The gruff woman snapped as she reached in her back pocket for her pack. No sooner did she flip back the cover, did it disappear from her hands. Eyes flashed with rage as she instinctively lashed out to grab it, but the taller, lither woman took a step back, waggling it between her thumb and index finger tauntingly.

"Your kids'll thank me one day, Keg."

"Give those back, Beau, or I swear..." In response, Beau simply smirked and danced away from her angry attempts at retrieving her stolen pack. They danced for a few seconds before Keg finally cornered her between a tall stack of pallets and the wall. She grabbed one of Beau's arms, forcing it down to her side while she reached up towards Beau's extended hand, bringing their faces close enough that Beau could smell the fresh scent of earthy tobacco and whiskey on her breath.

"Kind of reminds you of the first time, huh?" Beau whispered low in her throat. Keg momentarily blanked, her eyes wide, her lips parted in surprise. In a moment, she regained enough composure to snatch the pack of cigarettes back and quickly retreated back to her position under the lamp. She lit another one with slightly shaking hands and took a long drag.

"I mean, we could always recreate that night," Beau suggested with a slight tilt of her head and her right eyebrow quirked upward. Keg turned away to hide the flush creeping along her cheek, thankful that the cold had already turned it a decent shade of scarlet. Beau watched her shift in place, as if considering the idea's pros and cons, leaning from side to side with each one. 

"Beau! Keg, what the fuck?" Another voice cut through their argument, and Keg groaned. Beau turned to face the new arrival, a tall, in her opinion, scrawny looking half orc, handsome for his race, but not enough to turn heads everywhere he went. As he too pushed out into the open air, he brought his hands together.

"Fjord," Keg acknowledged. "Break time for everyone?"

"Keg, your break was over a half-hour ago, Beau what the fuck are you doing just standing there?"

"My break was not over half an hour ago, it just started!" Keg growled.

"I was trying to get her to come back but she wasn't listening, I was about to try a more direct approach." Beau punctuated her statement with a look at Keg's direction, lingering on the last words in way that made Keg choke on her own spit.

"Look, whatever, you both need to get back, we're about to open any second and this is an all hands on deck kind of concert." He sighed, rubbing his temples with both hands, as if he could mentally will his impending headache away. Keg scowled and flicked her half-finished cigarette on the ground next to her previously finished one, and ground it away. The three made their way back inside, the warmth and humidity of the building slapping them in the face as they entered. Keg shed her coat immediately, discarding it atop a few empty beer crates.

"So you want to continue this later?" Beau said quietly from behind her. Keg bit the inside of her cheek, not bothering to turn around to face her.

"Whatever, yeah, fine, sure," she mumbled. Satisfied, Beau folded her hands, and the three parted where the dark hallway met the brightly lit concert hall. Typically full of luxurious seating, the venue had stripped them away to make room for the packed audience, rumored to be in the thousands that night. Keg trudged back to the front door where she manned the useless velvet rope keeping the concert go-ers at bay while Fjord and Beau walked across the empty floor to a bar on the far side. Beau liked that bar, it was far enough away from the stage that the music never blared her ears out, but it also wasn't the first bar swarmed by patrons. She made her way behind the currently not sticky counter and did a quick inventory with her eyes.

"Gentleman's on edge tonight, huh?" Beau said idly.

"Biggest concert he's sold in a long time," Fjord replied like the Gentleman himself hadn't said it roughly a dozen times in as many minutes as he was doling out responsibilities that morning. "Could mean more business."

"Ok, you and I both know this isn't how he gets his money," Beau scoffed as she pulled a bottle of vodka from the shelf, twisting the cap off and inserting a pourer in one smooth, experienced motion. She put the vodka back, and did the same to a fresh bottle of rum, except when she was done replacing the cap, she turned around and threw two plastic shot glasses on the counter, filling them to the brim with dark liquid.

"Oh, you know, we shouldn't..." Fjord glanced around for prying eyes.

"Five dollars a shot, there's no way he's making money off this," Beau commented. "Last place I worked out we charged twice as much for a watered-down version. Patrons didn't know, and they didn't care." She scooped up one of the shots, and nodded towards Fjord. He did one last sweeping look, making as if he were stretching, before picking up his rum.

"To a good night, may no one die," Beau said, swinging her glass forward.

"That's a bit dramatic isn't it?"

"Hey, who knows what'll happen?" Beau argued. Fjord shrugged and clinked his "glass" against hers. They both downed their liquor in one go and Beau swept the trash out of sight. Fjord sighed turning around and resting his back and elbows against the counter.

"Are they any good?" He asked, nodding to the stage where the technicians buzzed around in their black attire, making sure mics were plugged in correctly, and wires were safely tucked out of tripping distance.

"I don't know. Wasn't here for soundcheck," Beau replied as she mirrored Fjord's stance. Her eyes went up to one of the many black, purple, and white-colored posters strewn across the walls. Bold, electric lettering popped from the poster, advertising tonight's event in a way that no one could ignore. 

"Yasha and the Orphan Makers," she read, and then with some forced enthusiasm, "Can't wait."

* * *

The venue had seemingly spared no expense to make the band comfortable in their green room. Flowers, per their managers' innocent request of "some flowers might be nice", filled the room to the point of superfluity. Yasha could hardly see over the white chrysanthemums and purple azaleas sitting in the middle of the room, gauchely organized into the band's acronym, "YATOM".

"We're on in twenty!" Their manager yelled from down the hall and Yasha made an affirmative noise in response. She continued reading her book, unperturbed by the fast-approaching sounds of her bandmates returning from whatever adventure they'd discovered.

"We brought pastries!" The green room door slammed open as a blue tiefling burst through, carrying two giant pink boxes with an anvil and rolling pin logo. Embroidered in feathered lettering across the top of the box was "The Softer Stoneforge". Following not too far behind her, a tall, pink furred firbolg followed carrying what looked to be a small, nondescript paper bag.

"Caduceus, Jester, we're on in thirty!" Their manager shouted again and then, knocking on another door, "Veth, did you hear that? We're on in thirty!" 

"Got it!" Jester responded in competing volume. "Yasha, look!" She set down the boxes and opened the top one. Inside, set neatly into little rows, were at dozen multicolored cupcakes of all decor, toppings, and, Yasha assumed, flavors.

"Wow," she said, glancing over Jester's prize.

"It was literally just down the street! I got us matcha, blueberry, boysenberry,"

"Poisonberry?" Yasha echoed with concern.

"BOY-senberry," Jester enunciated. "Like, you know, boys."

"Unappetizing to me either way," Yasha joked and Jester rolled her eyes. "What did you get?" She leaned to one side to look at Caduceus. The firbolg lifted his bag a little higher.

"Oh, just some tea. The bakery had a pretty decent selection, and I couldn't help myself." He smiled a sheepish, slow grin. "We can try some later."

"Pick one!" Jester insisted, wrenching Yasha's attention back to the glorious glucose morsels in front of her.

"Right before our concert? I'm going to get a stomach ache," she politely declined. Jester frowned and huffed, shutting her box with a little pout.

"Fine, but I am going to eat so many afterwards."

"I wouldn't recommend that," Caduceus said, knowing his words would fall on deaf ears. Jester pretended she heard nothing and plopped down on a plush blue ottoman situated in front of the mirror. She tilted her head from side to side making sure her stage makeup was still intact after their impromptu outing.

"It's really starting to come down out there," Jester noted. "Like, it's really snowing now."

"Oh?" Yasha asked as she flipped another page to her book. "It didn't look like it when we arrived."

"Yeah, it's really picked up," Caduceus said, sitting down on one of the couches against the back wall. The flowers obscured all of him save his shock of pink hair, giving the humorous optical illusion that the "Y" in the flower arrangement had sprouted luxurious cottoncandy-colored locks.

"You guys, I'm so excited for tonight, did you hear that we have, like, nearly ten-thousand people coming to see us play? That's a lot of people," Jester tapped her fingertips excitedly on the wooden vanity.

"Is it?" Yasha replied absently, but her heart fluttered a bit. She'd never get used to performing in front of a crowd, the thought of nearly ten thousand people made her nervous, and she had been trying to drown out the thought with a good book. She flipped a page, scanning the first sentence, before realizing she'd not comprehended any of the last two pages, and went back again.

"What are you reading?" Jester bounced over to her, the tiefling's excitement the antithesis of her feelings. "Is it any good?" In response, Yasha closed the book around her fingers to flash the cover at Jester. The art on the front depicted a handsome, shirtless half-orc cradling an equally insubstantial, sheer negligee.

"Tusk Love?" Jester read aloud. "Oooooooh that sounds intruiguing." Her voice dropped to a fake, seductively low tone on the last word that made Yasha turn slightly red. "Is it good?" 

"It's ok," Yasha said. "Just needed something to read, you know?" She opened the book back up. Jester leaned over her shoulder. 

"'Oskar wrapped his strong arms around Guinevere, his hand brushing the back of her bare spine, and little currents of electricity shot...'"

"OK!" Yasha shouted, snapping the book shut. "That's enough of that."

"I want to borrow that when you are finished."

"Sure!" Yasha said, throwing the book near the rest of her things. Her face felt hot. In having not processed the last few pages, she hadn't realized she'd gotten to  _ that _ part of the novel. Their manager poked his head back into the room.

"Five minutes, folks, five minutes." Yasha closed her eyes and took in a deep breath to steady herself. Her bandmates took their places beside her, and Jester squeezed her hand for comfort.

"Break a leg," Caduceus offered. "Not literally." He said the same thing before every concert, and they'd yet to have a bad performance. Yasha felt a bit better hearing him say it, and the manager, his head half out the door to see if the technicians were ready, motioned for them.

"Ready?" Jester asked. Yasha nodded and said,

"Yeah, let's do this."

* * *

"That's fifteen dollars, thanks!" The blur of money, people, drinks, and noise overloaded all of Beau's senses, but she moved with the instinct and experience of a well-weathered bartender; a smooth cog in a machine of chaos. Pour a drink, take the money, make change if she needed to while memorizing another dozen orders shouted at her from the opposite end of the bar, rinse, repeat. She caught a glimpse of Fjord, himself a whirl of perfect balance and efficiency, as he cleared empty cups and discarded cans from their side of the concert hall. The lights above them dimmed, and for a moment, the crowd settled as much as a raucous crowd could. Mist filled the stage, and lighting flashed against the backdrop of the stage. Beau took the moment of reprieve to glance up. The opening act, she recalled they were three halflings called The Half Glasses, had been passable. A little folksy for her taste, but not too bad.

Strong harp chords filled the speakers, reverberating against the walls, punctuated by background percussion. The concert erupted in a din that shook the foundation of the building. Four silhouetted figures stepped on stage, the harp and drums joined by the cutting lightness of a flute, and then the vocals kicked in. Spotlights poured on the band, and Beau got a good look at them. The singer was a blue tiefling, her voice confident and clear. She carried some faint accent that Beau couldn't place, but it served to add to their song's mystique. A tall firbolg played the flute, its sharp, almost screeching notes blended surprisingly well with the rest of the music. That brought Beau's gaze to the harpist, who seemed to be the most popular of the group, judging by the largest density of fans gathered near her, phones out and snapping photos. Her hands darted back and forth, across the strings, playing them with a ferocity Beau wasn't aware one could do with such a seemingly delicate instrument. She watched, transfixed, as the woman with jet black hair that faded into a pale white at the tips nodded her head to the music. The harp, the backup drums, the flute, and the vocals all combined in intensity.

"HEY!" A patron shouted at her. She shook her head and turned to face an ornery human waving a fist full of bills at her. "I'VE BEEN STANDING HERE FOREVER! I SAID I WANTED THREE BEERS!" Under normal circumstances, Beau would have flipped her off and gone about ignoring her, but this time, the shock of watching a fucking  _ metal harp band _ play distracted her enough that she grabbed the cash and handed her three beers without so much as a stinkeye. The music continued, but Beau's trance broke and she returned to the churn of dollars and booze.

"We're Yasha and the Orphan Makers!" The lead singer shouted into the microphone to a cacophony of noise. "I'm Jester Lavorre. This is Caduceus Clay on the flute, Veth Brenatto on the drums, and of course, Yasha Nydoorin on the metaaaal haaarrrpp!" Beau watched the massive harpist wave sheepishly at the roaring crowd and blinked with surprise. She would've given half her night's tips that the lead singer was Yasha.

"Beau, earth to Beau!" Fjord snapped his fingers in front of her face. "What's wrong with you? You're super spaced out tonight!"

"Dude, look at them, it's a fucking rock metal harp band!" Beau gesticulated with her arms in a pathetic attempt to mimic playing the instrument. Fjord quirked an eyebrow up and looked back at the stage as if realizing there was a band playing for the first time.

"Huh, yeah, it is," he said with some surprise.

"That's...like...fucking cool."

"Sure, yeah, sure it is. We have a job to do!" Fjord replied. Beau sighed and dropped her arms, and attended to the swarm of customers threatening to overturn her bolted counter.

The band continued to play, and Beau, in the lulls, or what could almost pass as lulls, of her job, enjoyed the concert from her corner. The frontwoman captivated the audience, and Beau found herself nodding to the music more often than not. As it neared last call, the lights dimmed down and the frontwoman (Jester was it?) wiped sweat off her brow and leaned against the microphone stand.

"Phew! You guys have been great!" She said over the cheering. "Caduceus, Veth, and I going to take a quick break, but don't worry, we leave you in Yasha's very capable hands!" With a wave, everyone but the harpist walked off stage, and Yasha cleared her throat.

"Uh, hello, everyone," she said unsteadily. "Thank you all for coming out..." Her voice was so soft that the volume of the concert hall dropped several decibels. Beau leaned against her counter with a half grin. Ah, that explained why the front woman did all the talking, even if the band was named after the harpist.

"I, uh, heard that we broke some records tonight for the Evening Nip," Yasha went on. The crowd cheered, though with uncertainty before the loud ones were shushed back into silence. "Uh, hooray?" Beau actually snorted aloud when Yasha raised her hands in a little celebratory back and forth motion. "Uh, anyway, I thought I'd play some of my original songs, and uh, I hope you enjoy."

For all her lack of skill at speaking, when her fingers found the thing strings of her harp, none of it mattered. The melody was more subdued than the previous songs, and the clarity of the solo rang out in the now hushed hall. A drunk patron, moving uneasily through the crowd, slammed his hand on the bar.

"CAN I GET A-" Beau glared daggers at him and shushed him. Stunned, the man nodded complacently and turned to face the stage as everyone else had done. The song carried a soft, melancholy tone, gripping at Beau's chest in an uncomfortable familiar way. She watched the harpist's face as her eyes closed, lost in the music. Her eyebrows knitted together, feeling every note, feeling the memory of whatever inspired this particular song and Beau felt it too. It almost felt like...like loss. Something hot ran down her cheek, and when she brought her fingers up to her skin, she found tears. Looking around, it was apparent she was not the only one affected, but the fact that she was at all made her shake herself.

The song ended and the audience hesitantly clapped, though more out of respect for such an intimate performance than appreciation for the piece. Yasha smiled awkwardly, glancing off stage with an expression that read, "please save me," and the lights again brightened. The rest of the band returned to the stage.

"Yasha, everyone!" Jester shouted, animating the crowd once more. As the swell of noise rose, Beau kept her eyes on Yasha, who sighed in relief when the attention on her dispersed. 

The band played a few more songs as Beau cleaned up the bar, turning away any drunk patrons pleading for more alcohol. She could've left when they announced the last song, but it had been a fairly enjoyable concert, and she stayed, sitting on the counter with her arms folded. Fjord, still buzzing around bussing tables, looked at her with a curious expression but didn't mention it.

"Thank you everyone! Thank you for an amazing show!" Jester shouted when they concluded. Screams of "encore" rippled through the crowd, ignored by the band. "We'll be back for sure!" Beau watched Yasha gently set down her harp and shuffle backstage out of sight.

"Surprised you stuck around," Fjord approached her as the hall emptied slowly. "You like the music?"

"Something like that," Beau answered with a cryptic smile that Fjord knew all too well.

"Oh Jesus," he sighed. "Who can I expect leaving in the morning?"

"Nah, it's nothing like that," Beau shook her head, and then, remembering, "Oh, wait, maybe Keg?" Fjord's eyes bulged.

"Ke-Keg? As in, bouncer Keg?"

"Yeah."

"I thought that was just a one and done situation!"

"Yeah, it was, it is, it's just a repeat, whatever, don't judge me," Beau snapped.

"God," Fjord tilted his head back. "Fine, whatever, you know how I feel, don't shit where you eat."

"Gross dude, it's just a little fun." Fjord, dismissively waved, and started sweeping the emptying hall. Beau checked her watch, wondering how long it would take for Keg to find her. She looked behind the bar, and grabbed a beer, not caring who was watching. She cracked it open and watched the last of the stragglers exit. A few minutes passed, and amidst the scurrying technicians on the stage, a familiar, looming figure returned to view. It was Yasha, back to personally pack her harp. Beau swallowed the beer in her mouth, and before she could stop herself,

"Hey! Good concert!" Yasha's head shot up, meeting Beau's. Her eyes, two different colors, one a deep purple and the other emerald with flecks of sapphire, studied her.

"Th-thanks," she replied, temporarily abandoning her task. Beau reached back and grabbed another beer, hopping off the counter. She approached the stage, beverage in hand as an offering.

"On the house," Beau said, setting it down on the ground in front of her.

"Oh, no, I-"

"Come on, who turns down free beer?" She nudged the can forward. Yasha's mouth tilted at an angle, as if considering another polite refusal, before she stepped forward and grabbed it.

"Thank you, that's very nice of you."

"I wouldn't do it if you band sucked," Beau noted, and Yasha broke into a soft laugh.

"Well, I'm glad we don't suck."

"Seriously though, where did you learn how to play a metal harp? Like, who knew?" Beau said. They clinked their cans together and Yasha sipped her beer, eyes turned up in thought.

"Just, something I wanted to do I guess," Yasha responded simply.

"Well, it's pretty cool." Up close, Yasha smelled faintly floral, along with another familiar scent dredged up from a childhood memory. She was taller and more muscular than Beau initially thought, even taking away the fact that she stood on a platform a couple of feet above Beau. She followed the cut of her jawline to her neck, slightly damp from sweat. A dark tattoo ran from her lower lip down to her chin. Beau could see, as her gaze trailed lower, a faint, rapid heartbeat against the pale skin of her neck. She found herself lacking for things to say, and her reluctant drinking partner didn't move the conversation much either.

"So, you playing another night?" Beau asked, struggling for something to cut the silence as they drank.

"Oh, no, we're heading out tonight, if the snow doesn't cancel our flights that is," Yasha replied.

"Oh shit, is it that bad out there?" Beau looked towards the doors.

"Yeah, from what Jester said." She tilted her head and finished the last dregs of the can. "Thank you. For the beer." She looked around with the empty can in hand.

"I can take that," Beau said, and the harpist gratefully handed her the trash.

"Thank you...?" She trailed off with a question, and it took Beau a second to realize she was trying to get a name.

"Beau," Beau stuck out her hand, and Yasha shook it.

"Beau. Thank you, again, for the beer. It's a lovely venue here. I'm Yasha."

"Yeah, your name is kinda on all the posters." At this, Yasha blushed, and Beau found it hard to believe that she was actually a famous performer. She showed none of the bravado and self-assuredness of a typical rockstar, and in a strange way, Beau found it endearing.

"Yes, well, that..." she laughed nervously. "Well, have a good night, Beau, it was lovely meeting you."

"Same, same." Beau's eyes lingered on her figure, taking in her toned forearms as she returned to her task of packing up her harp.

"Beau?" A familiar, husky voice called out. Beau turned around to see Keg, coat on, an unlit cigarette in her mouth. She made a motion with her head, eyes wide with intent. Beau turned around to say goodbye to the harpist, but Yasha was already heading back to the greenroom, harp strapped to her back.


	2. Chapter 2

"-and I  _ saw her _ talking with this really attractive girl! Well, not attractive to me, but maybe she finds her-" Yasha walked in just as Veth eagerly relayed her observations to a rapt Jester. "I'm telling you, she  _ smiled! _ " Yasha was by no means an emotional savant, but even she could tell by the way the two froze when they saw her that she'd been the subject of the conversation.

"Yasha!" Jester said in a surprised, drawn-out voice meant to buy time as they figured out how to proceed with getting caught gossiping.

"Hello," Yasha said as her skin prickled and her fight or flight instinct kicked in. "Everything ok?"

"Oh yes, we were just, uh," Jester circled her like a predator, and Yasha noticed Veth positioning herself at the door to make an easy escape impossible. "You know, we were just talking about fans, about tonight's fans, how there are so many fans..."

" _ Attractive _ fans," Veth interjected.

"Yes, attractive fans, you know, just casually sharing thoughts," Jester nodded furiously.

"Did you see someone you like?" Yasha deflected with the ease of someone used to these kinds of leading conversations. It had not been the first time they'd tried to put that thought in her head, and she doubted this would be the last.

" _ I  _ didn't, no. You know me, all focused on the performance, only have eyes for my microphone."

"WE SAW YOU TALKING TO A HOT PIECE. SPILL." Veth yelled, grabbing Yasha's arms and shaking them hard. Ever one for directness, which Yasha appreciated more and more every day. The less dancing around, the sooner she could reject their attempts at whatever it was they were trying to do.

"That was just the bartender congratulating us on a good concert, nothing more."

"She bought you a drink!" Veth protested.

"It was free!"

"Because she paid for it!" Yasha realized she was explaining far too much and far too long, and the more she lingered on this topic, the more likely the two would weave it into a fantastical tapestry of meet-cutes and star-crossed love. She'd seen Jester's journal on occasion, and she was not about to see herself as a romance novel protagonist a second time.

"It was a nice gesture, that's all."

"Bartender? Here?" Jester's eyes lit up in a way that made Yasha's blood run a few degrees colder. She shouldn't have given that away. She should've played that bit of information close to the heart. Her silence gave Jester all the confirmation she needed, and a Cheshire grin grew on on the tiefling's face despite her not at all serious attempts at smothering it.

"It's probably part of her job or something to give us free beer."

"I didn't get one, and I was practically standing right next to you," Veth noted with a hint of real disappointment. At this, Yasha blinked with surprise. She hadn't noticed Veth on stage when she was, but that would definitely explain how she saw her and the bartender interacting.

"So, like, do you want us to get her number or something?" Jester asked, tapping her index fingers together in a gesture that was both innocent and menacing. "Like, maybe you could get dinner with her since we're here another few days."

"No, no, that's fi-" she stopped. "Wait, what do you mean we're here a few more days?"

"The snow canceled our flight. It looks like it's going to be pretty bad, so we're here for a few days. Perfect for a distraction," Jester said with a wink. Yasha placed her head in her hands.

"I need sleep, is what I need," she announced, placing her harp down on the ground. She turned around and pushed past Veth. "I'll see you back at the hotel."

"So, that's a 'maybe?'" Jester called out after her.

"That's definitely a 'maybe,'" she heard Veth reply, and the rest of the conversation thankfully blurred together incomprehensibly.

* * *

Beau awoke to light streaming in through her plastic blinds, signaling that it had been morning for several hours at least. She blinked against the intrusive sun and rolled over. She hadn't expected Keg to be there, that had never been her M.O., so she wasn't surprised when all that indicated Beau had not been alone in the night was a dent in the mattress, sheets, and pillow next to her. She touched the impressions and guessed that Keg had left quite a bit ago based on how cold they were. With a luxurious stretch, she sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes against the brightness. Beau stepped out of bed, noting the satisfying soreness of the morning after. Her clothes looked like they had exploded from her body, with pieces hanging off her dresser, desk, even her ceiling fan. She gathered them up and threw them in the wash pile, and opted for a simple grey pair of sweatpants and a Cobalt Soul Class of 2010 t-shirt for her morning ensemble.

Caleb and Fjord sat in the living room on a loveseat and worn sofa, respectively, finishing what looked to be either breakfast or cold pizza from the night before. Beau wasn't in a position to judge.

"Morning," Beau grumbled, heading straight for the freshly brewed pot of coffee.

"Morning," Fjord replied, looking up from his phone. Caleb, nose in a book that looked more like several books glued together, did not move his gaze.

"I saw our friend, Keg, leave this morning," he said, his voice a little muffled by the pages. Beau never understood why it looked like he was practically frenching his books. Did he need glasses, or did he just enjoy stroking the pages with his eyeballs? "I said, 'hello,' but she seemed to be in a hurry."

"Oof, that bad, huh?" Fjord joked, only for Beau to pelt him in the head with a wadded up ball of wet napkin, soaked with coffee spill. Caleb ignored him and went on.

"I thought you two had a, what's the term, one-night stand? This makes two nights, does it not?"

"That's what I said!" Fjord insisted as he half-heartedly tossed the napkin pack at her, missing her by several feet.

"It's like an itch that needs to be scratched, or, maybe, a fuck to be had. It doesn't mean anything," Beau shrugged. She flopped down on the couch, practically squashing Fjord by proximity, who made a noise of displeasure and scooted over.

"I would be careful, else she ask why you keep coming back. And if I know you, Beau, those questions are very awkward. I like Keg, and it would be a shame not to see her around," Caleb cautioned, still somehow reading his book at the same time as offering unsolicited advice.

"Jeez, will both of you calm down? It's just some party and play, a 'get in, get out' situation."

"Ok, we don't need the details," Fjord groaned.

"All I'm saying is that she's a big girl. She can make her own decisions."

"You do not need to be a child to make mistakes," Caleb retorted, finally setting his book down. Beau scrunched her face in annoyance.

"Ouch, dude, that was uncalled for." Caleb pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. He sighed.

"I am sorry, that is not what I meant."

"Yeah? What did you mean?" Fjord looked between the two of them anxiously as the tension in the room skyrocketed beyond normal Friday levels. Caleb leveled his gaze at Beau.

"I didn't mean to offend you, Beauregard, it's just that I am afraid that Keg will interpret this in her own manner, and you have stated that you are not the type of person who enjoys a complicated situation." Beau relaxed a bit, accepting his revision.

"Yeah, that's fair." An uncomfortable silence passed between the three, and Fjord gestured at the window, trying to divert their attention to the massive snowstorm outside.

"Really coming down out there still," he said to what might as well have been two living room standing lamps. Caleb's mouth quirked up in a smile.

"So, Beau, did she leave you a note this time too?" Beau laughed and the pressure dissipated from the room.

"Thank. God. No," she replied, enunciating every word, remembering the last time when Keg had left a scrawled thank you note on her pillow that had served to keep the trio laughing for days. They still referenced it every so often, and it sent them into fits each time.

"So, not to be particularly nosy, but I saw you talking to one of the band yesterday," Fjord said with a coy grin. Beau returned it in kind and let out a satisfied sigh as if she'd accomplished more than just a few seconds of chatting and a few minutes of awkward silence.

"Dude. Dude, that was Yasha herself!" Beau exclaimed. Caleb shot her a curious look, which warranted explanation. "We worked a gig for the Gentleman yesterday at his concert venue, and the main act was this metal harp band called Yasha and the Orphan Makers."

"I have heard of them, yes. They have been around for a while, but their fame is growing, ja?"

"I guess, the place was fucking packed, man. But like, after the show, Yasha came back on stage, and we had a beer together, it was so fucking cool."

" _ She _ actually talked to  _ you? _ " Fjord restated with some disbelief. Beau hit him on the arm, and he shirked away.

"Who wouldn't want to talk to me. Dude, she's so fucking hot, man. Like, I was trying to slide on in there, being all smooth and shit by giving her free beer."

"Did she seem interested?" Caleb asked intrigued.

"I dunno, she's a rockstar. But it was worth a shot. But like, if she was interested, I one-hundred percent wouldn't have come home with Keg."

"Even if you had, one look at this place, and she would've turned around and left immediately," Fjord muttered, almost earning another smack.

"Fine, I probably would've gone to her swanky penthouse hotel room or something rather than slumming it here with you losers." She took a sip of her coffee and pulled out her phone. When she saw no messages, she set her coffee cup down and sighed heavily.

"What's wrong? Keg message you?" Fjord asked.

"No, I was kind of hoping this snowstorm would close the restaurant, but I haven't heard anything yet."

"You're still working there? I thought you hated it!" Fjord said.

"You try living in Zadash with only one minimum wage job," Beau retorted. "I'd totally quit if I could, but rent keeps going up, and I have to pay for it somehow." Beau bemoaned.

"Maybe if you shacked up with a famous rockstar," Caleb joked. Beau's head tilted back on the couch.

"I wish." She closed her eyes and let the daydream take hold. She pictured the Yasha - the way she played the harp, her nimble fingers dancing over the strings, her two-toned eyes, seductively half-lidded, flitting over to her.

_ "Hi, I didn't notice you watching,"  _ she would say.

_ "You can keep playing,"  _ Beau would reply.

_ "I can think of other things we can do..." _

This time Fjord managed to hit the back of her head with an open palm. She snapped forward, eyes wide.

"Ow, man!"

"Can you please do that in your own room?" Fjord asked. Caleb chuckled and opened his book back up. 

* * *

Yasha listened grimly to the news that the snowstorm had swept the entire coast and canceled their next two concerts. As their manager outlined their next steps, Yasha watched the rest of their band immediately start making plans within the city. A sense of pervading dread filled her gut.

"Are you sure there isn't anything we can do?" She asked.

"Like what? Tell mother nature to stop snowing and suddenly turn 80 degrees to melt the snow?" Their manager replied. "Think of this as a break, relax, take some time for yourself. Zadash is a fantastic city."

"Everything's probably closed," she pointed out. Their manager folded his head into his hands in defeat.

"We could use the break, we've been touring nonstop." Caduceus offered.

"I just...feel bad, you know? For the fans who were excited to see us," Yasha lamented.

"But it's not our fault that we canceled," Jester replied. "It's the weather."

"Yeah, I guess, but I hope we gave them all refunds." Yasha looked expectantly to their manager, who in turn looked a bit green. It seemed as though the prospect of giving money back had not yet crossed his mind, and she could practically see him tearing up at the thought.

"I..." He started, but all the band members were nodding in agreement. "I'll see what I can do." His mood soured, he got up from their hotel conference room couch and left in a hurry. Jester turned back to the group.

"So what should we do? I vote we visit every pastry shop in Zadash." Defeated, Yasha leaned forward.

"I want to buy some souvenirs for Luc and Yeza," Veth interjected.

"I'm happy doing whatever you guys want," Caduceus said to no one's surprise. All eyes turned to Yasha, who shrugged in exasperation.

"I'm going to finish my book," she announced. "In my room."

"Aw, come on, Yasha, let's go explore! Have a little fun?" Jester insisted.

"I'll think about it," Yasha replied. 

As she settled into her room's sofa, Tusk Love in hand, she kept her promise. Her earlier commitment to Jester was one she knew she'd keep in the sense that she would consider it for all of a second before concluding that she'd rather spend their time in Zadash in the comfort of her room. It wasn't that she didn't like to explore; getting recognized made her feel anxious, and as their fame grew, so did that particular worry. The band's fame had never been a particularly bright spot for her. She loved that people enjoyed their music, but sometimes she wished they'd decided to anonymously release their albums. Especially recently, with their new single climbing the Wildmount Top 100 at an alarming rate, people had stopped her in the streets to get an autograph or picture or, in the worst case, scream exaltations of love. The more attention they received, the more Yasha wanted to crawl into a mountain and become a hermit for the rest of her days.

By the time she reached the acknowledgments of Tusk Love - about a page worth of adoration for her editors, husband Marston Flay, and fans of the series ( _ SERIES? I must find the rest of the books, Yasha thought with determination.) -  _ the sky outside her room had darkened. Her stomach protested the lack of sustenance. She set the book down on the coffee table and stretched her stiff body. As if on cue, someone knocked on her door, the mystery solved a few seconds later when Jester's voice floated through.

"Yasha? Yasha, we're going to get dinner. Do you want to come with?" Her stomach growled.

"Yeah, that sounds good!" She called back. She looked in the mirror and marveled at the mess that was her dark hair. She ran her fingers through the black locks, attempting to make herself look passable. As the thought crossed her mind, she removed her hand. Maybe the shabbier she looked, the less chance a fan would recognize her. When her unique face gazed back at her, she knew how unlikely it was. She picked up a baseball cap from the vanity and threw on a pair of fake glasses, just in case.

Jester, Caduceus, and Veth stood just outside her door, the blue tiefling tapping her foot impatiently. None of them had bothered with any disguise. 

"Sheesh, Yasha, it's not like we're starving or anything!" Veth teased. Yasha smiled apologetically, then looked at the three of them expectantly.

"Where are we going to dinner?" She asked.

"Some local place in downtown called The Seaweed Shack," Caduceus replied. "'FirbolgVeggies.com' highly recommended the place." Yasha opened her mouth to comment on the highly specific need for a firbolg vegetarian website but thought better of it and shut her mouth.

"Don't worry, I looked it up too," Jester said with a wink. "There are meat options, and it looks suuuper fancy."

"Thanks."

"Alright, let's go!" Veth urged. "Cab's been waiting downstairs for us this whole time!"

The Seaweed Shack proved opposite to its briny, grungy name. The Roman-style columns echoed a Neptunian style, with carvings of fish and aquatic flora decorating either side of the entrance. Inside, opulent golds, reds, and purples made up most of the color scheme, punctuated with a glowing blue cylindrical aquarium in the restaurant's center, four feet in diameter going straight from floor to ceiling. Tropical fish danced in circles, and one lone, small shark swam lazily among them.

"Wow..." the four said at once in awe. A man in a tuxedo welcomed them in. Jester had already put in a reservation for the four of them, so they didn't have to wait long. As they sat, Yasha couldn't help but notice the curious looks the four of them drew from nearby patrons. But no one bothered them.

The menu was a mix of experimental seafood and fancy twists on classics. Yasha ordered jicama and lime crema lobster tacos with a glass of the recommended wine pairing and handed her menu back to the server.

"I'm going to wash my hands," she announced, pushing her seat back. The rest of the group dissolved into ideas for the following day, pending what was open in the blizzard. Yasha followed the gold signs pointing to the restroom and eventually found herself standing in front of giant, scallop shell shaped sinks. The brownish-green tile mimicked the ocean floor. She ran the faucet and started washing.

A deep marine blue door to one of the stalls opened, and a woman in a grey suit and blue bowtie stepped out. Yasha initially ignored her, but a familiar voice startled her into attention.

"Uh, hi!" Yasha whirled around to face her speaker and found herself staring into the aqua eyes and dark complexion of the bartender from the night before.

"Hello!" Her voice sounded a few octaves too high, and her eyes went wide. "Uh, B-Be..." Her mind scrambled to remember. "Beau!"

"Yeah, hi!" Beau stammered. Had Yasha looked in the mirror, she would've found her face the same color as her anticipated lobster tacos.

"Fancy meeting you here!" Yasha struggled to bring her voice down to a reasonable level.

"Oh, yeah, I work here. The bar, you know, gotta pay the bills somehow, right? Not that you would need to worry about that, being a rockstar, or I don't know your situation, so I probably shouldn't guess," Beau rambled before finally shutting her jaw with a definitive click of her teeth.

"Oh, no, we're very comfortable, so I guess I wouldn't know anything about worrying about paying bills or, I mean, I pay my bills. And taxes," Yasha, equally flustered, took the awkward hole that Beau began to dig and made a whole grave for the two of them. Forced silence and unease filled the bathroom so much so that another patron had stepped in, hit it headlong, and walked right back out.

"Uh, I should, uh, I need to get to the-" Beau pointed at the sink behind Yasha, and Yasha quickly moved aside.

"I'm so sorry, uh, well, it was nice to see you again, enjoy your dinner-I mean shift, I hope it's a good shift!" Yasha replied. She hurried out before Beau could say anything further, even though continuing to dig that pit was the last thing Beau wanted to do. Yasha hurried back to her seat, keeping her head down but as soon as she pulled the chair in, Jester studied her carefully.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?" Jester asked.

"Don't play dumb," Yasha hissed. "You planned this, didn't you? I  _ told  _ you I wasn't interested, and you still brought me here?" Jester stared at her with genuine confusion.

"What are you talking about? Caduceus chose this place..."

"OH MY GOD IT'S HER!" Veth all but shouted over the table. Yasha buried her face in her hands as Jester and Caduceus both looked to where Veth pointed. "THAT'S HER!"

"Oh my god, that's her?!" Jester echoed, her voice breaking.

"Yes! Yes it is! Holy crap, what are the chances?" Yasha peeked between her fingers at their shocked faces. 

"Wait, you guys seriously didn't know?" She asked.

"No! We didn't pick this place; Caduceus did! It must be fate!" Veth earnestly eyed her with intent.

"What are we all talking about?" Caduceus interrupted, having missed the exploits of the previous night. "Who are we looking at?" He scanned the crowd, eventually pointing at the bartender too. "Her?"

"I saw Yasha talking to her yesterday, and she was smiling!" Veth practically bounced in her seat, and now the other guests around them definitely stared, though with less curiosity and more animosity at the disruption. Yasha cast a quick glance at Beau, who was far enough away that it didn't seem like she had heard the commotion.

"Please, please leave it alone," Yasha begged. Their server returned just in time with food to halt any conversation until dessert.

* * *

Beau couldn't help but look over at table 9 every chance she got where Yasha sat, doing her best not to look Beau's way. Her brain did flips in her skull, wondering what kind of a small world it was for them to run into each other again. She ignored the fact that it was probably one of the only fancy restaurants open in the blizzard due to the fact that the owner of said restaurant was a money-grubbing dictator of a boss. The distraction cost her two incorrectly made cocktails and at least a couple of dollars in tips. She did flips in her brain, wondering if it would be appropriate to send a drink on over. Maybe this was her chance. She'd heard how rockstars party, and even if Yasha didn't seem like the type, perhaps she secretly was.

She focused so singularly on Yasha that she didn't notice when Jester approached the bar.

"Hi!" Beau jumped.

"Jesus, sorry, was zoned out there, how can I help you, oh! You're the frontwoman for Yasha. I mean Yasha and the Orphan Makers," Beau recovered.

"Yeah! You were working the bar yesterday, right? I'm Jester." She stuck out her hand, which Beau shook cautiously. There was a glint in the tiefling's eye that she recognized as pure mischief. It was a look Beau had been conditioned to suss out, as it usually meant people forcefully ejected from the bar.

"I'm Beauregard, Beau for short. Yeah, you guys were great. Never heard anything like that before," Beau replied.

"So, listen, I don't have a lot of time," Jester looked over her shoulder at her table, where Yasha still had her back to the bar. "So, our tour got postponed because of, you know, the snow. So, we're in Zadash for a couple of days, and we were wondering if you could, you know, help us out with figuring out what to do while we're here." A server shouted an order at her that Beau completely missed, but she didn't care.

"Uh, yeah, uh, I mean, there's lots to do in Zadash. If you like plants, we have a nice arboretum, and if you're more of a bar hopper, I can suggest a few good-"

"I mean, like, do you think you could physically show us? Like actually be our tour guide? We'll pay you." Beau blinked in stunned silence, and Jester pedaled backward. "You don't have to! We just, uh, wanted a local to show us around and stuff."

"I mean, sure, I guess. If you're paying me," Beau stammered, her brain still catching up to her mouth.  _ Tour guide? Are you kidding me, Beau?  _ Her mind screamed at her, but it was too late. Jester flashed her an eager grin.

"Yesss! What's your phone number? I'll text you tomorrow where and when to meet us." Beau numbly typed her number into the outstretched phone. "Thank you, so much, Beau. I promise we'll totally make it worth your while." With that, she turned on her heel and skipped back to her seat, leaving Beau with a feeling that somehow she'd sold her soul.


End file.
